Heron
Wing beat sloppy slow
I watch a soft grey
heron go
gently over
my patio.
With upright stance
and spindly knees
herons roost
in high trees,
harmoniously,
in heronries.
When first light ruffles
dove down morning dress
they rise like wedding guests
and go their separate ways,
leaving little signs
turned neatly round
that simply say:
Gone Fishing.
All day.
Editor's Pick/Featured Work at Poetrycircle.com 1/2014
